Page 28 of Beauty and the Cop
He laughs, a deliciously low rumble that's full of warmth and affection. "Friends, huh?"
I fumble for a scrap of dignity. "Yeah, friends."
He stares at me for a long time, the space between us pulsing and electric. And then he grins, the curve of his lips slow and wicked. "Fuck that noise."
Before I can register what's happening, he dips his head and kisses me—hard, thorough, a little bit smug, too. I gasp into his mouth, and he takes that as an invitation, deepening the kiss until I'm dizzy all over again.
When he finally pulls away, I'm breathless and a little shell-shocked. He brushes my hair back from my face, searching my face.
"Elsie." His voice is rough, gravelly, almost irritated, except there's a smile playing around his wicked mouth. "I need you to hear me right now, okay?"
I nod, speechless.
"We're not friends." He says it with a finality that both scares and thrills me. "I don't want to be your friend. Not after last night. Not after any of this." He gestures to the sofa, to us, to my skirt bunched around my waist, and his shirt riding up his abs.
I think my heart stops.
"We're—what are we?" I stutter, terrified that if I say too much, I'll break the spell and he'll tell me that he's just kidding.
He grins, the crooked, lazy one that makes my knees weak. "We're whatever you want us to be. But we aren't going back to just friends."
I want to argue, just to see that look on his face again, but the alarm on my phone starts screaming from somewhere under the sofa cushions, and I realize I'm going to be late for work again.
"Shit!" I scramble, practically falling off the couch onto the floor.
He catches me at the last second, saving me from my own clumsiness. "Careful, baby," he murmurs, and then helps me stand before fishing in the cushions for my phone. He silences the alarm before handing it over to me.
When I take it, he doesn't immediately let it go. Instead, his hand engulfs mine, his eyes locked on my face.
"Stop thinking so much," he orders, as if it's that simple. If he had any idea what he does to my brain, though, I doubt he'd feel say it like that…so bossy.
"I need to get ready for work before I'm late," I say softly.
He grimaces, hauling himself to his feet. I get a glimpse of his abs before his shirt falls back into place. "You know I'm sorry about yesterday morning, right? Any kid who passes through your doors is lucky to have you."
"I know," I whisper. "It's okay."
He steps in front of me, tilting his head down. His eyes meet mine like he's looking for something. I'm not sure what he finds—probably pure neuroticism at this point because ya girl isspiraling—but he just shakes his head, his lips quirking into another lazy grin.
"It's not okay yet, but it will be, baby." His lips brush my forehead before he steps back, sauntering toward the front door. He glances at me over his shoulder once, his eyes soft. "See you after work."
I just nod, unable to form words as he slips out, leaving me alone with my loud-as-hell thoughts and all the questions I didn't have time to ask.
Sometimes, being an adult with an adult job and adult responsibilities is, literally, the lamest thing on the face of the earth.
It's after ten whena sharp rap rattles my front door on the hinges. Even though I expected it, I jump anyway, my heart slamming against my ribcage.
"Crap," I whisper, jolting to my feet. My hands rise toward my hair, trying to tame my wild curls into some semblance oforder. It's a losing battle, though. Unless there's a straightener involved, my hair does what it wants.
Apparently, so does my heart because it's racing like this is the freaking Derby, and it's trying to win the race.
"It's just Noah," I remind myself, only to snort as soon as the words leave my lips. He's the whole reason I'm anxious as hell. He'salwaysthe reason. But he's doubly the reason now that he's given me an orgasm and declared that we're not friends.
I've been unable to think of anything else all day. Fortunately for me, he was at work when I got off, so I've had time to prepare. Not that it helped much. I'm still a nervous damn wreck.
But I'm less anxious than I was this morning. Talking to Alice helped. She gave me a little much-needed clarity, reminding me that if I run from this now, I'll always regret it. And she's right.
It doesn't matter if it's big and scary and new. Iwantthis, enough to risk the possibility of heartbreak. Which means I need to put my big girl panties on and let myself fall into it instead of being a neurotic mess about it.
